


Mad Men

by dellanec



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Violence, Dark Gwaine (Merlin), Dark Gwen (Merlin), Dark Merlin (Merlin), Hurt, M/M, Oblivious Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28641165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dellanec/pseuds/dellanec
Summary: He’s stronger than Arthur...he always has been, he’s just never shown it. Never been allowed to. Until now. He rips his arm from the tight grip, startling the king who looks at him in wide surprise.Arthur thought him weak, idiotic, incapable...a fool.No more.“Don’t ever touch me again.”
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 60
Kudos: 212





	1. Chapter 1

_“Useless fool.”_

_“Waste of space.”_

_“Is there even a brain in that thick skull of yours?”_

_“Why I keep you around, I'll never know.”_

_“Magic will never have a place in Camelot.”_

_“If I were to find a sorcerer in our midst, I’d kill them without a thought. Why would you ask such a ridiculous question, Merlin?”_

He had thought he’d stop being pained by such words long ago. He had believed that Arthur’s insults were the king’s way of expressing affection. That deep down his destined other half cared for him in the same manner he did.

But he had been a foolish child. Lost in a fantasy of love.

A love that simply did not exist. 

* * *

Guinevere was the last person Merlin would have thought to betray Arthur. 

The couple courted for months, far longer than the typical engagement period, but still just as lovely and perfect as any king and future queen would be. Excitement sprung throughout the castle when the royal wedding was finally announced. Servants grinned and whispered, placing wagers on the gender of the future heir and painting merry images of the perfect family. 

Merlin ignored such talk. Just as he ignored the ache in his chest that grew heavier every day. He spent hours upon hours watching the man he loved recite poetry he'd written and present flowers he had placed in the king's chambers only hours earlier. 

So Merlin did what he knew best, continued being the ‘disposable servant’ the ‘useless being’ who protected the king with his life; returning to his room every night with new bruises and burns, covered in scars and bubbling emotion he didn’t allow himself to feel. **_This was his destiny._** Gauis and Kilgharrah were always sure to remind him. _He was supposed to endure the pain. He was supposed to ache and burn for his king._

And the sorcerer did, he let it go on for five long, excruciating years. Years in which he despised himself, despised how much he loved Arthur, how he'd do it a million times over if it meant his king would give him a smile or thanks. 

Merlin had gotten used to it, resigned to his destined fate of belonging to Arthur.

Until... _everything changed_. _So fast and simple, his whole existence altered in the blink of an eye._

Guinevere entered his room in the middle of a silent night, mere days before her wedding, wrapped in a strange black cape, eyes dark and serious as she spoke. 

“Merlin,” She whispered, shaking him awake. “Darling, you should leave. You should come with me... _with us_. You don’t belong here.”

“G-Gwen?” Sleep slowed his mind as he attempted to process her words, sitting up moments later as the meaning struck. 

“Wha-what are you talking about? Where are you going? Where’s Arthur? Has Camelot been attacked?!”

“Shhh. No, no-” She placed a soothing hand on his bare arm, rubbing gently. “Merlin, Camelot will soon be whole but not through Arthur’s reign.”

“Wha-”

“He is still an immature child, he will only bring Camelot to shambles if he continues in his selfish ways. Arthur pays no mind to the poor or less fortunate, he continues on with the executions of those with magic, believes women are of lesser strength, not worthy of the same respect a man receives. He treats you like a slave Merlin. He is a mirror image of Uther, a hard but true revelation. Arthur is _not_ a good man, let alone a worthy king.”

 _When had this all happened? Was it a curse? A trick? A test of loyalty?_ Only hours ago had he wished the two a good night, desperate to escape the site of the couple wrapped lovingly around one another. 

_This wasn't right...it couldn't be._

“But...he’s your-”

“He is _nothing_ of mine. No longer will I play fool for him. Merlin...Gwaine will be the next of us to leave. He can explain things further to you, but I must go before Arthur awakes.”

Merlin scrambled upright, clutching at her arm as she stood. “Who-Who is awaiting you?”

She smiled so bright and spectacular, a gleam in her eyes he had never seen before. Merlin was left struck, her beauty blinding in that very moment. 

_Had every smile he witnessed prior been forced? Fake? Had she been miserable all along? Had she hidden her true self for years?_ _Were they more alike than he once thought?_

“My love awaits me” She whispered, pulling gently from his grip. “Morgana wishes to return balance to all of Albion. Together we will all be victorious.” 

“Morgana?” He gasped, stirring at the use of the forbidden name. 

_She was the enemy. The woman he continuously fought in favor of his king._

Arthur refused to hear or speak his sister’s name in any manner. Referring to her only as _witch_ or _traitor._ Gwen had always remained quiet in such topics, and Merlin had assumed she held the same disdain for the woman. 

_But this...this wasn't hatred or anger._

“Guinevere, if she is threatening you-”

“ ** _No_ **Merlin.” She interrupted in a tone so harsh he found himself flinching. “Cast a spell on me if you wish to see if I am cursed, but Morgana has had my support since her leave. I serve my Lady before anyone else, that I can assure you. There is no sorcery involved in my feelings for her.”

His brain throbbed as he glanced around anxiously. _Unsure of what was real and what was fake_. How had everything changed in such a short span of time?

Merlin was anxious, bubbling with a hidden desire he had never once revealed. And though he was stunned by Gwen’s revelation, he was even more so by the way he wasn’t revolted...the way that he felt drawn to her like never before. 

“You-you know of my magic?” 

“Of course, great Emrys,” His expression at the prophesied name made the maiden smile fondly, squeezing his hands with one last glance in his direction. “Quiet now Merlin. I must hurry and leave. Think of what I said. You deserve better, _Albion_ deserves better. You have a chance to make a difference.” 

He had not been able to speak as she hurried down the few steps and out the physician quarters. 

He had hardly been able to see as her cloaked figure found its way out of the castle and across the courtyard, undetected.

And he had certainly not fallen back to sleep by the time the king barged into his room, frantically searching for his bride. 

When asked, Merlin had not seen Guinevere since he had wished her a fair night.

_He had no idea where she might have gone._

* * *

Merlin hadn’t thought it possible for Arthur to become a crueler man. In fact, a small part of him prayed that with Guinevere gone Arthur might actually come to respect him, maybe even appreciate his efforts.

He'd been a fool to think so highly of the king. 

Arthur insisted that Guinevere had been kidnapped, blaming magic for its involvement, for to him there was ' _no other explanation.'_ He forced and threatened his knights into treacherous searches, not allowing them to halt when the sun set, demanding they light lanterns and continue on.

Arthur shouted and cursed at nearly every movement Merlin made. The insults increased as if his manservant had taken Guinevere himself, the complaints and seething anger louder and lingering. 

It takes three days after Gwen’s leave for Merlin to make his way to Sir Gwaine’s chambers, finding the room with practiced ease, for it was only a week prior that they'd shared a drunken night of pleasure. Merlin forgetting his woes and the unrequited love he held for his king, Gwaine simply happy to bed another lover. 

He only needed to knock once for the door to be sprung open. Familiar handsome face shifting from annoyance to excitement as their eyes meet.

“Merlin!” Gwaine drags him into the room with a tight embrace, slamming the door behind them. “I’ve been waiting for you. Finally escaped the devil’s claws, have you?"

“Gwaine,” He musters, looking up to face the larger man, desperate for answers to his thousands of questions, “Explain to me what’s happening. Why did Gwen leave? Why does she trust Morgana? Why are you-”

“Merlin-” His questions are swallowed by lips pressed against his own, the knight’s arms wrapping tighter around his waist. He finds himself subconsciously returning the action, allowing the other man to lift him onto the large bed and hover protectively.

“Merlin-” Gwaine repeats lowly, lips pressed against his ear. “I'll explain everything to you, don't you worry your pert arse.”

* * *

“There’s more of you? How...many? Who? Wha-”

Gwaine quiets him with another kiss, only retreating when he's certain Merlin has fallen quiet. 

“There are many of us who have been wronged by Arthur. He’s a horrid king, Merlin, you have to know that. As for the names of the others, it seems only Morgana and Gwen know, it's safer that way, shit would go to hell if one of Arthur's henchmen find out."

_Then why would they have trusted Merlin? He was loyal to Arthur, he had always been. Did they not believe he was? Did they believe he could be swayed?_

“But I-Gwaine...destiny calls for him to be king. I am meant to ensure so, support him no matter what.”

“Do you think he would be merciful if he found out your true power? Do you think he would allow you to continue living? Arthur already treats you terribly, can you truly imagine a life with him where you could be yourself? Where you could be free?"

Merlin had debated this for years. Every time Arthur had been kind, he had wondered if he could confess everything. If he could tell the man of their story, or their future. The question came frequently but left as quickly. The answer was always the same. 

**No**. He could not ever tell Arthur who he was, not if he wished to live. 

“I-”

“Destiny _can_ be changed, Merlin. You can lead us into a new age, you have the power and heart to do so. Together you and Morgana can make Albion whole. You can care for all those people who have suffered during the Pendragon reign.”

Merlin presses further into Gwaine's embrace, desperate to rid himself of his pounding headache. 

“He’s my king Gwaine, I _love_ him. I’ve protected him for years. I suffered so that he could have that throne. You’re asking me to throw away all my work. Every scar and burn I’ve gotten will be for nothing.”

“No-” The knight responds firmly, cradling his face into large palms. “Merlin I’m asking you to make your work mean something. If you stay and allow him to remain king, magic will never be legalized, executions will continue. Make your scars worth it. Dedicate them to people that matter. People that genuinely support you. I know this is difficult for you. We knew this would be the hardest for you to accept...but think about it. I understand you love him, but if you choose this, if you choose the right side I’ll be with you for as long as you’ll have me. I'll swear my fealty to you as my king and I’ll _never_ break it. _You_ are everything we need in a ruler. You’re bravery and strength, compassion, and-"

Merlin moves before he can properly think, lips pressing wildly against Gwaine’s, desperate and needy as he claws at the other man’s garbs. 

It's all too much...too sudden. Words he'd thought he'd never hear, let alone from a knight of Camelot. These are treasonous ideas he had always pushed away, the dark lingering dreams he convinced himself were meaningless. 

_Now suddenly there were others. Those who felt the same._

_He wouldn't be alone, he could have the power he deserved._

_But could he turn his back on destiny? On-_

_No. No more thinking._

He needs and needs as he undresses them both, Gwaine ever so the willing participant. The knight doesn’t question or complain, or insist that they continue speaking. He allows Merlin to strip him and use him as he pleases, pressing into Merlin's touch. He lets Merlin moan and whimper loudly, unafraid of who may hear. 

Gwaine lets him _do it all_ , only gasping his own praises.

* * *

Merlin is late the next morning and Arthur is in an especially horrible mood. He throws the chalice he'd been drinking from, a hollow sound echoing through the room as it slams into Merlin's face, contents drenching both him and the chamber’s floors.

The king laughs for the first time in days, grinning as he speaks. “You would think after years your reflexes would have gotten better.”

When Merlin doesn’t reply Arthur repeats himself, more annoyance than humor, expecting a retort of sorts. The servant ignores it all, only kneeling to clean the liquid from the wooden planks. 

His mind burns too much to respond or pretend to care. There were much more important topics of discussion. _Such as the number of people throughout Camelot who followed Morgana. Each one leaving the kingdom at different times to avoid a mass panic. An unknown amount with unknown identities...to protect them. It makes sense._

_Merlin hates **how much** it makes sense. _

_People executed, starving, and mistreated by nobles. Why wouldn't they want to rebel?_

_More importantly, why had no one ever told him of such plans before?_

But...would he have even listened a few days ago? Would he have considered ignoring destiny, betraying his king? 

_No, probably not._

His mum...Gauis...all the years he had dedicated to Arthur, _two sides of the same coin,_ the love he held for the once prince. So many factors to consider, with so little hope left. Merlin had arrived in Camelot as a young, wide-eyed _teenager,_ eager for love and acceptance. So he had loved and loved, embraced destiny and its bright promises. 

And still...it led him **nowhere.**

_Had anything truly changed since his arrival?_

“Arthur...” He starts quietly from his place on the floor, an intrusive need coursing through him. _He'd try one last time, attempt to hold on to the last sliver of longing from within_

“What?” The king sneers, annoyance, and spite in the single word. 

_How had a young Merlin found such behavior endearing?_ _How until recently had Merlin thought this would be the rest of his life?_

“I-I...love you.”

His heart aches as he says it. His mind screams as he processes his own words. Merlin doesn't need Arthur to love him back, he just needs hope. Some sign of humanity, of decency in the king. _Please._

“Speak up, you bumbling idiot. I can't hear you.”

Merlin rises shakily, determined in a way he's lacked for months. _Why does he need to say this? Why is this what he wants to be his determining factor? Why is he doing this to himself?_

“I love you.” This time his words are undeniably clear. The rooms silent for a brief moment as they stare at one another... and then Arthur is standing. He stalks his way towards Merlin, strong and steady, still clad only in his trousers as he reaches out and grabs the younger man by his collar. 

Merlin’s mind races with possibilities. _Would they kiss? Would they-_

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you? Do you think now is the time for child’s play? That I will listen to your foolish jokes and laugh? My bride has been taken from me and you still sit here and say such things?”

_Ah-Of course._

“Arthur, I’m not-”

“Enough!” The king seethes, shoving Merlin with a strength that sends him stumbling. As his back hits the wall he's forced to take in a ragged breath, struggling to regain air his lungs need, eyes blurring from the sudden impact. 

Arthur startles at his own action, panic flashing as he watches Merlin double over to draw in needy breaths.

“Merlin...I didn’t-I didn’t mean to-”

He's not interested in listening to the king’s nauseating attempt at an apology, ignoring the hand stretched out to him as he struggles to a stand, heading directly towards the chamber doors in stony silence. 

_Maybe before he would have savored an apology, because before he had believed in destiny...in Arthur._

But now... _There was nothing._ Finally, he was free from the curse that was Camelot's king. 

He couldn’t do it anymore. No man was strong enough to endure such treatment. Magic or not. Destiny or not. Dragons or not. A man was only human, he could only go so far without breaking. 

The grip on his arm is rough and frustratingly familiar. _How many times had he let Arthur hold him back? Belittle him? Push him?_

“Merlin, wait. I-” The plead is useless. He’s no longer the same foolish child he had been mere minutes ago. 

Because he’s stronger than Arthur, he always has been, he’s just never shown it. _Never been allowed to. Until now._ He rips his arm from the tight grip, startling the king.

Arthur thought him weak, idiotic, incapable...an idiot. _No more._

“Don’t **_ever_** touch me again,” Merlin whispers, so dark and low he hardly recognizes his own voice as the doors slam behind him. 

He's left with a strange mixture of sobs and laughter as he makes his way down the hall, ignoring each servant and knight that looks his way as if he were a madman.

_And he is a madman. Who wouldn't be after years of fucked up destiny? Years of mistreatment and abuse? How could he be anything other than what they have reduced him to?_

He’s only stopped by a sudden hold pulling him into a dark alcove, familiar hands wiping carefully at his blurry eyes. “What did that fucking bastard do to you?” 

Merlin laughs into the chest of the larger man, full of mania and relief. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all. Just take me with you. I want to leave this place."

The pure adoration on the knight's face is contagious and through snot, tears, and laughter they’re kissing hungrily, hands searching and grabbing. 

“Let’s leave tonight,” Merlin gasps into a sloppy, open-mouthed snog.

“Mer -- tonight?” Gwaine mumbles into his neck, biting at an already forming mark.

“Yes.” 

“Are you certain?"

"More than anything _._ "

"Just tell me what do you need me to do."

“I ask only one thing of you,” Merlin whispers, pulling at the knight's tunic. The adrenaline courses through him like none before. _Had he gone mad? Would he regret his decisions?_

He doesn't care as he pulls the other man impossibly closer, “I want you. Right now.”

Gwaine's eyes widen, a sly grin falling over his expression, "You'd have me fuck you here?"

In the alcove of the castle they both hated, ruled by a man they despised in a kingdom they abhorred. Where anyone could hear or see. Any unsuspecting servant would be scandalized, a knight would blanch in horror. 

All the possibilities. Reckless and horrible. 

_Merlin loves it._

"Yes."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning/ horny dark dramatic sorcerer.

“Do you think I should tell Gauis?” 

The knight halts his descent down the warlock’s chest to ponder the question, shaking his head only moments later, “No Merls-” 

The idea of leaving the old physician behind and completely clueless _should_ make Merlin feel terrible. After all, Gaius had long become his father figure and mentor, taking him in and keeping his secrets. But...he _doesn’t_ feel terrible. _In fact, he wasn’t sure what he felt_ , because, despite all the meals and healing the old man provided, Gauis was also the same person who urged him to risk his life for a worthless king and a hopeless destiny, encouraging a teenaged Merlin to sacrifice _everything_ he was. 

“He’s safer not knowing,” Gwaine continues, rolling off him and onto his side. “If he gets caught lying he risks the dungeons...or worse. We can protect the old man when we return, but you should consider his reaction Merlin. Gaius has served the Pendragons for decades, he may not be willing to turn against Arthur, he practically raised the bastard.”

 _Another reality he had not considered._ There would be many he once called friends that would oppose the removal of Arthur as king. 

Merlin nods absently, taking note of the last rays of sun peeking through the chamber windows. Time had become warped in the rooms dark confines, hours undoubtedly passing since they’d entered after their alcove rendezvous. Yet, neither man suggested returning to their duties, mindlessly touching and caressing, avoiding meaningless talk as Merlin conjured loaves and fruits.

If he were in his right mind he’d likely question the rapidly changing developments. _How had he become the very thing he once hated? Why had the decision not been nearly as hard as it should be? Was this the person he’d always been deep down?_

So many potential inquiries and still Merlin remained indifferent to each as the knight pulled him atop his bare chest, pressing a berry into his awaiting mouth, “As much as it pains me to say we’ll have to get to our rooms soon. We should pack for tonight. Though you can leave all your clothes if you please, I can assure you, you’ll _never_ need servant clothing again.” 

“Is that so?" Merlin smiles softly, "Or is it that you wish to watch me waltz around in the nude _Sir Gwaine?_ ”

“Would you blame me?”

“Cheeky thing.”

“Only for you, _my lord."_

Merlin can’t help the way his breath hitches at the title. Years of being subjected to speaking to others formally, disrespected by those who believed they were better simply because of their class. _But no more,_ if he were to be a lord others would respect and fear him. They'd never look down on him again. 

Merlin had every intention of relishing in his power. Though he was not an unrealistic man, and he knew there would be obstacles when claiming such a position. He held great skepticism towards Morgana’s so-called promise to rule alongside one another. They hadn’t discussed agreements, let alone seen each other since they had last fought. It could all very well be a trap...an attempt to rid a threat to her power. _The possibilities were endlessly dangerous,_ but just as he’d turn his back on the Pendragon he loved, he was certain he’d have no problem doing the same to the man’s sister. 

Merlin would no longer hold back, no matter who or what he had to trample to change his twisted destiny. He would do it all with the grace and fist of a true leader, remain civil with Morgana unless she or her henchmen became suspicious... _Gwaine included._ _No one was to be trusted in such a world and no one was safe._

“What are you thinking of in that pretty head of yours?” Gwaine questions curiously, startling him from his thoughts with a gentle prod to the head. 

“Ahh...nothing important. Though I realized, I must say your loyalty to Morgana is admirable.”

Gwaine raises his head with an incredulous scoff, lifting Merlin’s face to meet gazes.“You’re gravely mistaken. I fight alongside Morgana _not_ for her. My loyalty lies with no other than you.”

_Is that so?_

“But she is to be queen, is she not?”

“I do not care what she is as long as you are king.” 

_Interesting._

“You believe I would be a good ruler?”

“An amazing one. Just and fair, unlike the despicable nobility. If I had not faith in you from the very beginning, I would have left this fucking kingdom ages ago.” 

“You mean to say you’ve stayed in Camelot for-”

“You,” Gwaine finishes, nodding seriously, “Of course.” 

“Why did you wait so long to tell me? You’ve been here for nearly a year now.”

“Would you have been able to walk away from destiny before? From Arthur?” 

Merlin’s silence is answer enough for them both. He had _not_ been ready to abandon destiny, hiding his true desires for so long, frightened to disappoint so many. 

“Fair point, but certainly you could have gained my alliance without bedding me?”

Gwaine's chest rumbles with loud laughter, “That, I must admit, had not been apart of the plan. Though, if I remember correctly it was a certain warlock that knocked on my door a few months ago.”

“Asking for a drink.”

“You practically ripped my shirt off, _Merlin_.”

_Ah yes, Arthur had been especially horrible that night and a man could only turn a proposition down so many times._

“Habits of a servant,” he quips with a shrug. 

“Well, you’ve never heard me complain, have you? Waiting was worth it, though I wish you hadn’t have had to deal with that monster for so long.”

“I’m glad I did, I was foolish and I made the mistake of fighting for another one too many times. I won’t be so idiotic again.”

Gwaine frowns, pulling him tighter against his chest, “You didn’t know any better Merlin, no one gave you a decision, and the moment you arrived in Camelot you were forced to hide. You’ve been hiding for ages, but it’s your time now. Don’t worry about the mistakes you’ve made in the past. The future is yours."

“Yes, you're right...” Merlin sighs into their embrace.

Such big words and promises from a man he had once only seen as fun. _What a strange development indeed._ Merlin would remain wary in his trust. _But this loyalty would be celebrated if true..._

_After all, It would be a true shame if he had to rid of such a handsome face._

It’s not until hours later that the two rise, basking in laughter as they take in the sight of his body in the dusty mirror. He’s marked and bruised, but the scars from battle are not what stand out, instead memories of pleasure and promises. Gwaine’s arms encircle around him as he stares proudly at his work. “Look at you Emrys. _Stunning._ ” 

It takes all of his willpower to not pounce on the man once more. To not demand the knight swear his undying loyalty to him right where they stand. But he only smiles in turn, allowing Gwaine to tie his handkerchief. 

“Until tonight.”

Their promise is sealed with a kiss.

* * *

It’s long past supper when he enters the physician’s quarters, breathing a sigh of relief when neither Gauis nor the king await him. He’s quick to make his way towards the mounds of potions and hidden books, heeding Gwaine’s advice to leave behind useless items. 

_What good would relics and sentimental gifts have in a war anyway?_

Gaius returns by the time Merlin has long accomplished his task, the old man suspiciously silent as he beckons him towards the supper table, pouring them tea with a studying gaze. “The king was looking for you all day. He seemed quite worried, you best let him know that you’ve returned.”

Merlin lets out a humorless laugh, blowing at the steam seeping from his cup. 

_Arthur...worried? The king was likely fuming over the way he had been addressed. Arthur cared for no one but himself. Especially not Merlin._

“Where did you disappear to, boy?”

“I was busy.” 

“With?” Gauis inquires further, pushing at his brewing irritation. 

“Nothing of importance.” 

“Yet, it was important enough to disregard your duties.”

“It seems so,” Merlin returns dryly. 

“Then you can surely tell-”

 _Gods, he could snap any moment. Banish the old man to hell if he so chose._ The flash thought of his mother’s disappointment grounds him, keeping his magic controlled.

"Let me ask you Gauis...do you think Arthur a good king?”

He’s met with a pointed brow that he had once found _oh-so_ endearing. The very sight of it now creates an instant fantasy of cracking bones and scorching hair. 

“Of course. Misguided at times, but that’s why he has you. You’re a great influence on him Merlin.”

_Influence? Ha. Absolute and utter shit._

“And am I to be his care keeper for the rest of my days? Continue allowing him to mistreat me and take advantage of my loyalty? Do you believe what I do is considered living?”

“My boy. I understand the king can be ‘a prat’ as you say, but he is a good man. You know this more than anyone. You two are born for one another, to help unify Al-”

 _Of fucking course._ The physician’s answer was always the same, Merlin had allowed the old man’s soothing voice to draw him in, convince him that his sacrifices were worth it. _But they weren’t. They had never been._

“I do _not_ need a reminder. That destiny is all I’ve worked to achieve in the last five years of my life, I certainly haven’t forgotten.” His sneer can no longer be played off as otherwise, his hands clenching with barely contained anger.

“Yet, despite all your achievements, you’re unhappy," Gaius returns pointedly, "You haven’t been the same for a long time and I am not the only one who has noticed. You’re not alone Merlin, there are many people who-”

“Aren’t I Gauis? Who else suffers the daily consequence of protecting a man who doesn’t give a _fuck_ about him?”

_He was surrounded by fools. How had he allowed himself to be pushed and prodded by such men? Maybe rather than losing his sanity he had regained it?_

“Arthur does care for you. He has risked his life for you more than once. He would never do such a thing for another servant. His majesty only struggles with expressing himself, I’m certain he also feels lost.”

“Lost?” Merlin seethes, losing restraint as he slams his cup against the wooden table, its contents splashing freely. “Is that what you call him? He’s not lost when he executes innocent people. He persecutes them, burns them, treats them worse than the animals he hunts. How can you defend such a man?”

“I-I don’t believe what he’s done is right, but he knows no better. Uther taught him that-”

“Are you thick?!” Gauis splutters as the sorcerer stands, staring down with dark eyes, “He is no longer a child. Uther is _dead._ Arthur can not hide behind the past. Every decision he’s made is formed by his own free will. He will _never_ change.”

"Merlin _,_ I understand you’re going through a lot, but now is not the time to give up. You’ve done so much for Camelot, if anyone is to help Arthur see the truth it is you.”

 _That’s all the old man cared about. That’s all any of them cared about. His power, his destiny._ _To hell with them all._

“I’m not giving up” _No far from it. He was just starting_. “I’ll start doing things the way they should have been from the beginning.”

Gaius stares at him as if he’s mad. As if he’s the culprit of all the angst and death and destruction in the kingdom. _But he isn’t, not yet at least._

“What would that entail?” 

_Just you wait and see._

“Merlin-” The physician calls worriedly as he stalks towards his room, the question left unanswered.

“Gaius,” He turns with a smile so wide they both know it’s full only of danger and deceit, “You don’t have to worry about a thing.” 

He’s pleased when the old man doesn’t follow or question further, allowing Merlin to lounge across his bed with uninhibited laughter. 

It felt good. Everything felt good. Speaking freely, not holding back, as if he were an entirely new person. Magic brewing with new need and anticipation. 

The warlock closes his eyes, with the intent not to sleep but to relish in the beauty of silence. 

_An hour past midnight and he’d be long gone._

* * *

“Merlin-” 

The warlock has to force himself from coiling at the sudden voice, familiar boots making their way to his bed as he pretends to sleep. A hand brushing at his hair almost sends him into a flurry, but he forces his magic down. _How easily he could rip that silly hand off._

“I’m sorry,” The whisper continues, “I know I’ve been horrible to you. I wish that I could be the man you need. But I keep on failing you. I’m not a brave enough person to tell you this when you’re awake. I hope,” The king’s voice falters with a brief shuffling. “I hope this letter helps you understand how I feel.” 

Arthur leans down and presses the lightest of kisses onto his forehead with a final message so quiet Merlin struggles to hear, " _I_ do love you, I swear, but you deserve the world and I can’t give that to you.” 

The warlock doesn’t breathe for several minutes after his door shuts. As if he’s glued in place, body rigid and eyes shut. The shock and confusion far too great for any attempt at comprehension.

When his movements return, he presses his hands to where the lips had just been. _Arthur had kissed him._..claimed his love. _A dream Merlin had millions of times before. A fantasy he had thought only a cruel game from the gods._

He finally mutters a spell, bringing light into the room as he grabs at the neatly folded paper beside him. 

The penmanship is clean and practiced and Merlin doesn’t have to read the letter to know Arthur hadn’t written it himself. The warlock could have distinguished the king’s penmanship from miles away, his letters large and crooked. Nothing at all like the message he held before him. 

_What servant had he forced to write such a thing? Were his words, any of them, really his own?_

The warmth from the lips pressed against his forehead turns cold and cruel within mere seconds. _How could the king claim love of any sort, when he treated Merlin in such a way? Casting him aside, shouting, belittling. In what world was that love?_

He barely skims through the letter, hands gripping angrily as he does. The immediate flutter and excitement from Arthur’s visit disintegrated with each word read. There are phrases including _friend, love, and, loyalty_ , but It’s the last sentences that burn through, puncturing his already empty heart and wrenching it from his body. 

_“You are the one man I know will be by my side forever. Thank you, my friend. For everything you do.”_

Merlin rips and rips until the letter is indistinguishable. Pieces littering his bedroom floor as he rages, rubbing painfully at the skin on his forehead that the king had violated. 

That's all he was to the man. No matter how it was written or twisted, he was always expected to kneel, to serve. 

_Disgusting, it was all so fucking disgusting._

It was too late for declarations of love and apologies. 

Arthur Pendragon was despicable. 

* * *

It’s before their designated meeting time, but he drags his items and makes his way out of his room. 

_He has to escape the memories_. Each and every one, along with any lingering thoughts that suggested Arthur might have been honest. _It doesn’t matter either way._ _Love couldn't bring those executed back to life, it couldn't erase the five years of suffering._

Merlin doesn’t bother making his bed or cleaning the ripped pieces of the letter from the floor. _Because he wants them to know._ He wants them to know that he left, that he made the decision to walk away. 

**That he’s a traitor.**

He grins at the idea of Arthur’s wide eyes, full of hurt and confusion. 

Merlin scurries to Gwaine’s room, whispering spells along the way to lead guards astray. The thrill is invigorating, the millions of plans he had once forced his brain to reject. The image of taking his seat on the throne, watching Arthur suffer on his knees, pleading for forgiveness. _No, that was too lenient. 'Child’s play' as the king himself had said._

Gwaine’s eyes widen as he opens the door, looking down the hall before pulling the younger man in.

“Has something happened?”

“No,” Merlin whispers crowding the knight against the wall. It’s comical almost, hovering over the much larger man, attacking his neck with bruising bites. _But it feels right like it’s the power he’s always been meant to have._ “I’m going to kill him.” 

The knight’s hands instantly stop, eyes dark with surprise and arousal. “Arthur?” he questions curiously. 

Merlin nods, pressing against Gwaine’s still hand to find relief. "He deserves to burn. ” 

He relishes the way the knight shivers at his words. _If Gwaine enjoyed power, then Merlin would gladly show him it._ He leans up until his lips meet the man’s ear with a drawn whisper, “Arthur Pendragon will die by my hand.”

“ _Fuck Merlin"_ Gwaine groans, pulling him closer. “You’re perfect. Send that bastard to hell.”

It’s all so perfect. Much better than the pure thoughts he once had of Arthur, holding hands and kissing lightly. It's dark and grueling, a new age. Their bodies remain pressed against one another, moans growing as Gwaine lifts him against the wall, encouraging long legs to wrap around his waist.

“Swear your loyalty to me,” Merlin demands in panted breaths. _He wants the man before him, as comfort, toy, servant, or lover he has no clue. But he wants...and he has every intention to get._

“You have it," Gwaine returns, "Tell me what you want and I will give it to you.” 

“Good. Do not betray me, remain true and you will be rewarded.”

“Staying by your side is reward enough." 

_How Merlin hoped that was true._

“We should leave soon," Gwaine sighs, pressing their foreheads together, "The longer we wait, the more likely we are to risk detection.”

“They are no threat to us, I could kill them all now if I please.” He means it. _He could rid of them all, he might even laugh through it._

“It is not your power that is in question, you could take the throne right now if you wish, but let us convene with the others. We’ll dress you in garbs and find you a crown fit for a true king. Then you can show them all who you are. Who the man who’ll unite Albion is. You’ll be unstoppable Merlin.” 

_This. This is what he had suffered for. For those who’d pledge themselves to him._ _No one could take this from him. He wouldn't let them._

"You're right," he grins, bubbling with want, "I'm going to show them all. They'll regret everything they've done to us. Arthur will regret."

The knight lowers him to his feet with a beaming smile, lacing their hands firmly together, “Then let us leave this place.”

Merlin remembers every moment of the past five years in that single minute. The rare smiles Arthur would give him, the conversations they'd share, the kiss, the final confession. He loved Arthur, and as angry and hurt as he was that couldn't change in a single day. 

In fact, he'd probably always love the man. Maybe that's what would make killing him all the more enticing. He grips his knight's hand tighter, following out several doors, through the courtyard and finally -- _finally_ leaving Camelot behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been #procrastinating at its finest. Whoopsy. Also, I don't if anything warrants a warning so please do let me know if you feel it does. I don't really think so, they're just a little crazy or whatnot but also rt. But also not rt because don't do bad things to people. Can you tell it's late again? 3:00 am to be specific. 
> 
> Anywho enjoy? I hope haha
> 
> Gwerlin? Is that their ship name who tf knows. DOn't ask me why I made them the way they are. I'm so not okay right now, I'm going to sleep. I'll edit in the morning, but if you find mistakes lmk pls, I'll #lovu


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Violence/Mentions of Blood

Conquering Camelot was _simple._

It was snowing the night they returned, the typically bustling courtyard abandoned and eerie, a lovely prelude to the battle that followed. 

Merlin led his warriors; a mix of old Camelot knights and sorcerers eager to end the tortuous Pendragon reign. Morgana and Gwaine stood beside him, watching the barracks and armory burst into flames, magic and metal clashing angrily as unsuspecting guards rushed out to defend their king. 

He held back a yawn at the simplicity of it all, sorcerers effortlessly destroying Camelot’s men with chants and golden eyes. 

_It was beautiful...but boring. All so easy._

His interest was peaked as Percival and Gwaine’s swords struck. The battle with mundane weapons a pitiful show amongst the displays of magic, but captivating in its own mortal way. 

Percival held the obvious advantage with his large build and capability, swordsmanship cleaner and more calculated than Gwaines.

There had been a moment where Merlin believed his knight would die, raising a brow as the man suffered a gash to his chest, stumbling onto a single knee. It _should_ have been the end for him, but Percival, ever so caring made the pitiful mistake of reminiscing, gaze softening as he pleaded with Gwaine to surrender.

It was a shame, for Percival was an accomplished fighter, but like most men, compassion was his downfall and his enemy was victorious, slashing him down the moment his sword lowered. 

“Swear your loyalty to Lord Emrys and you may live,” Gwaine gritted darkly, his weapon drawing blood as it pressed deeper into the larger man’s neck. 

“I will not,” Percival grimaced, eyes set sorrowfully, "I serve one king, Arthur Pendragon the rightful rule-”

Percival died a rather brave man, a fool, but brave nevertheless. Gwaine killed him before he had been able to complete the treasonous sentence, not a single flash of remorse visible as he finished off his old friend. 

If he was capable of such feelings, Merlin might have fallen in love with his knight at that moment. He stood tall though injured, eyes burning with the same darkness Merlin felt within himself. Gwaine was perfect. But affection, Merlin had learned, had always let him down, and putting such faith in another could only lead to a sorrow he vowed to never feel again. 

He ignored the flutter in his chest when Gwaine maimed another, wiping splattered blood from his face and catching his gaze with a smooth wink.

The sorcerer forced his eyes towards Morgana's fight, her magic draining her strength as she continued on, shouting simple spells with arms splayed. 

_Amateur. It really would be simple to kill her._

With an indifferent shrug, he pushed past his men, stepping over bodies, and flinging open the pathetically fortified castle doors. 

“Lord Emrys,” He grinned down at the man who kneeled graciously, his battle-ready comrades staring in confusion as the head knight bowed before the enemy, “Welcome to your castle.”

“Stand Sir Elyan, you have done well. Guinevere awaits you by the stables.”

The knight stood swiftly, ignoring the protests behind him and solely addressing Merlin. “You no longer need my assistance, sire?” 

“You have accomplished your job perfectly and your sister misses you dearly. I will send for you if you are needed.”

“Thank you, my lord.” 

The men Elyan brought forth per Merlin’s request, gripped their swords tighter as they watched the senior knight walk past him and through the chaos of battle untouched.

“He’s betrayed Camelot!” 

“Sir Elyan sides with the enemy!”

Merlin laughed wholeheartedly, head shaking fondly at the ignorant soldiers. “You are mistaken. Elyan sides with Camelot, we stand for the good of this kingdom, for its future. Your current king stands for riches, death, and intolerance. So I give you a choice. Join me or die this very night.” 

Silence and terror crossed the faces of the men before him, many hesitant as they looked among each other, but the battle cry that followed sealed their fate.

_Pity, they might have had futures._

Merlin could only sigh when they charged and when his own warriors stepped forth, he held a hand out to halt them. Eyes flashing and magic flowing for the first time that night, burning dangerously as it tore and cracked through Camelot's knights, blood spilling gloriously across the entrance of the castle.

 _The perfect Pendragaon red._ Thirty knights killed as easily as breathing.

Morgana paled at his eased display of power and he concealed the victorious sneer he wished to release. He’d known she had intentions of taking the throne for herself, for she was practically conspicuous when she met with Morgause and planned against him.

But while she sat and plotted, he trained. Releasing his magic like never before, learning and experimenting with his true power. Those three months away from Camelot allowed him to grow in a way he hadn’t thought possible. _Merlin had been strong before, but his new strength made him untouchable._ There was not a single soul who could come close to defeating him and he made it clear in every action he took. 

The grand sorcerer continued down the halls, flicking his wrist to burn any representation of the Pendragons, savoring the way his favorite portrait of Arthur shattered into a thousand pieces. 

His march was unwavering as he surged through the castle, swinging doors open in search of conquests. Yet, he faltered as he stumbled amongst a young serving girl, shivering against the castle’s cobblestone.

“Pl-please don’t hurt me,” She whimpered, eyes downcast and bloodshot. 

Merlin recognized her from his own days as a servant, bending before her to meet gazes properly. 

“What are you doing here?” He questioned, lowering his voice as to not further frighten her.

“My-my lord he-he called for me and I was fetching him wine. I haven't done anything wrong, ple-please don't punish me.” 

The thought made his stomach turn as he overlooked the girl, bruises upon her neck tell-tale enough of her lord’s treatment. Merlin’s anger turned violently as he remembered his own days of submitting to despicable men. 

“Who is your lord?” He fumed, attempting to keep his tone even, as to not frighten her further. 

“Sir Enos,” She whispered softly, trembling growing greater at the man’s name. It was not Merlin she seemed to be afraid of but rather the unfamiliar individual she spoke of, “He-he is a visiting knight from Mercia.

She was young, maybe 16 years of age, and they had run into each other as she catered to Guinevere. She had been so full of life and happy only months ago. But her lord...the nobility, they were all the same. Living to tear those with less down, to make them suffer. 

“Your name is Lydia, is it not?”

Her eyes widened in surprise, facing him as recognition overcame her. He briefly shielded her view as a sorcerer beheaded an approaching knight. _She hardly seemed the type to enjoy such sights._

“You’re Merlin...the manservant who went missing. The king has been searching for you for months.”

_To torture him some more no doubt._

He couldn’t find it within himself to be mad at the innocent girl for mentioning the man he loathed, shaking his head as he conjured a blanket and wrapped it carefully around her. “That was who I was once, but you may call me Emrys. I no longer serve that _man._ ”

Lydia startled at his tone, looking at the sorcerers who stood loyally behind him, red soaking their faces and blending into their dark clothing. She stared in what he couldn’t tell was utter awe or horror.

“You’re...here to take over the kingdom?”

“I am.”

The teen fell silent, and Merlin sighed, prepared to stand and leave her be when she grasped his arm, desperation evident as she held tight. 

“I-I hope you rule better than the current king. You were one of us once, don’t forget how the nobles have treated us. They’ve tortured me and my family, treated us like we’re-”

“Creatures.” Merlin finished solemnly for her, “I won’t forget, I couldn’t ever Lydia. Hear my promise to you, I am going to kill Sir Enos and any nobility who has wronged us and they will never harm another. When I have been crowned return to me for I will make sure you and your family are taken care of.”

"Do you promise?”

If she had been any other he’d have thrown her aside for questioning him, but he smiled kindly, a strange fondness blooming for the young girl. _After all, he had been the same age when he arrived in Camelot, when his life had been stripped away from him._

“You have my word, Lady Lydia.”

Merlin sent her through the bloodied halls with a conjured flower and promises of the future.

It wasn't until she disappeared from sight that he allowed his rage to bloom, his warriors stumbling backward as he shouted, “Bring me Enos and the Pendragon at once!”

He brushed his trousers as his men scattered, eager to comply and please. Only Gwaine and Morgana remained, following obediently as he stalked his way towards large golden doors. Entering the throne room helped extinguish his temper, for he was finally entering not to serve but to rule. An echoing laugh leaving him as he threw his arms out in awe. 

_It was his. All of it._

It took an easy wave for the room’s red and gold interior to turn. Glowing in its new glory, silver, and a rich dark blue. The throne gleamed brighter than ever, larger and more regal. _As if it was meant to be._

“Isn’t it beautiful, Gwaine?” He called over his shoulder to his knight who watched, eyes proud and gleaming. 

Merlin felt the spite in Morgana’s gaze as he took his rightful seat, but they both knew well enough that he could destroy her in seconds, ensure she never saw her beloved Guinevere again and for that alone she was forced to accept him as her sovereign. 

It took only minutes for a nude man, identified as Sir Enos to be thrown before him, sputtering as he was forced to kneel. He was large, an obvious drunk who had never had to work for a thing in his life. Merlin gazed over him silently, ignoring his obnoxious questioning and shouts. _What would be a proper punishment?_ He could torture, tie, and disfigure, yet none seemed appropriate for a man who had been able to ruin the youth and innocence of servants such as Lydia.

_No, he’d be no fun to tease. He'd be much more pleasant silent and lifeless._

Sir Enos bled to death on the steps to the sorcerer's throne, tossed into the halls when his gargling finally halted. 

And when Arthur was finally found, Merlin couldn’t help the hysterical laughing fit he fell into as the bruised king stared in horror.

“M-Merlin?” He whispered, voice cracking in a way he had never had the pleasure of hearing before.“-No, no- it can’t be-” 

His pained look was even sweeter than Merlin had imagined. The sorcerer had thought of millions of things he could say to his old master, but not a single one came to mind as Arthur rambled, pulling at his restraints desperately and denying the very sight before him. Unlike Enos, he found the blonde beautifully entertaining. _As handsome as ever._

_What could he possibly do to the man who simultaneously made and broke his heart?_

_Make him suffer,_ the voices supplied. 

So suffer the old king would. 

Merlin was crowned at the first of dawn and hundreds of knights, servants, and sorcerers crowded the room to swear themselves to him. He left those who resisted in Morgana's care, watching the smile she hid as she dragged nobles away and returned with bloodied hands. 

_Maybe if she continued to behave they could get along._

Arthur Pendragon kneeled bound and beaten as the chants began, forced to watch as he was stripped of his only meaning. 

“Long Live King Emrys!” The crowd cheered, though many appeared skeptical, fear of the unknown obvious in their faces. 

He hadn't cared what they thought then, because, in the end, Emrys knew he’d live a long indeed...and he'd be the best king Albion had ever seen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part is the last part & will be up soon woohoo! It originally had just been three chapters but the next part is a year in the future so I thought it'd be better to just separate them and give more detail. 
> 
> I have loved writing this side to Merlin. I wanted him to just go crazy on Arthur in the show sometimes because he really did lose so much for him. I always think that he must have thought about how easy it would be to take control himself, but his loyalty always kept him from entertaining such thoughts. IDK though I just wished Arthur would have understood the extent of what Merlin lost and did for him and I felt he never really did. I guess that's what makes the ending of the show more painful, Merlin never really got the appreciation he deserved. SOO that's how this dark little piece came to be. 
> 
> Thanks for reading & for all the lovely support and comments! Have a lovely day/night <33


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of violence, blood, non-descrip torture.

He wakes to the cruel frost of a winter morning. Magic fueled fireplace doing little to combat its cold, forcing him to take shelter in the bundles of blankets strewn across the bed. The storm terrorizing Camelot had made the past week a frigid sort of hell. Everyone seemingly praising its arrival as tasks halted and citizens huddled in the warmth of their homes. Though he failed to join in their excitement, pacing restlessly as long days torturously passed.

Emrys might have relished in the unexpected rest if not for the disruption in his plans. _Just one more battle and destiny would have been fulfilled_ , instead, he was stuck within the castle, forced to wait as no magic was strong enough to combat the gods' weather. So, Camelot remained as is, frozen and desolate of the king's typical joy. 

The loud clang of his chamber doors being kicked open redirects his attention, peeking from his bundle to watch his head knight stalk in, hurriedly ridding himself of one of the many layers of clothing he wore, a failed attempt at stealth as he clumsily makes his way towards the bed.

"Remind me to never send you on a secret mission."

Gwaine startles, looking around for the source of sound, and Emrys can't help but take pity on the lovely idiot, halfheartedly lifting his head to meet the pondering gaze.

“Oh!" The larger man beams, closing the short distance between them by flopping atop him. "A good morning it is. I didn't expect you to be up so early."

“You're hardly quiet Sir Gwaine. I'd be asking for a death wish if I slept through that racquet of yours."

His knight laughs, that bellowing laugh of his, pushing the barricade of blankets down to capture him in a lingering kiss, “You see? I was helping you train."

"Is that so? Then I suppose I owe you my thanks." He buries his head into the soft warmth of the other man's neck, grateful for the furnace of a being. “Mmm -- How is it your so warm?” 

“I've come from training, love.”

The king quirks a brow, looking towards the bright bouquet the man had entered with, pride flourishing at the simple display. His knight had begun learning magic months ago, insistent that he be able to fight alongside him, strength growing incredulously as the days passed. 

Gwaine’s newest trick consisted of conjuring everything and anything he could, resulting in several nearly irreversible disasters, while also ensuring the royal chambers were always equipped with the prettiest flowers he could muster. 

“With Morgana?” Emrys questions, pressing kisses into his lover's jaw.

“I gave up trying to train with her ages ago. It’s impossible to get her away from her _darling new bride._ ”

“But they’ve been married months now.” 

“That’s only a day in that world of theirs," Gwaine snorts. 

_Ah yes, the castle’s newest horror._ The wedding had been lovely regardless of its aftermath. Morgana’s eyes full of adoration as Guinevere walked down the aisle, beautiful gown and all. It was obvious who had planned the ceremony, bright flowers and sparkles a strange contrast to the sorceress’s midnight dress. Even then he couldn’t help but ponder how such a murderous and dark person had captured the heart of the forger’s sweet daughter...

But love was a strange thing, turning even the coldest people vulnerable and the loveliest cruel. It was quite pathetic, inevitable in some ways and as much as one fought and denied it, humans were just fickle beings driven by the admiration of others. Even Emrys was susceptible to such troubles, finding himself lost in emotions he had never encountered before: the newest being jealousy, love’s newfound and dangerous partner in crime.

“You trained with Koris again." It's less of a question for he knows the answer, envy burning brighter at the man's sheepish shrug.

"He’s a bloody good sorcerer Em, you know that.”

“There are plenty of _good sorcerers_ Gwaine. That man looks at you as if you were his fucking prey.”

His knight snorts, amusement obvious in his beaming eyes, “He’s a man of fine tastes, can you blame him? It seems you two have similar interests, maybe we could all get along, eh?”

Emrys' eyes darken, pulling from the other's grasp to properly glare. 

Possessiveness was a trait he hadn’t thought much of in his past, but it occasionally reared, images of Koris touching his knight burning within his mind. 

He and Gwaine were - _\- who the hell knew what they were._ Their roles kept them busy, Gwaine studying magic, Emrys fulfilling the duties of a king, directing and leading numerous kingdoms... and yet, they always ended up finding one another, Gwaine remained beside him through every war, meeting, all the harrowing nights of nightmares he had expected to spend alone. 

There had never been a need to label themselves, because title or not his knight was, well, **his** knight. Everyone who had ever seen them together knew that, just as they knew better to insult or openly proposition him, for if one had ever seen Emrys angry they swore to never be at the brunt of such a horror. 

Yet, there were always those like Koris, uncaring of the matter, constantly leering and flirting with Gwaine regardless of who was present. Though the king was no fool, he knew his lover was far from innocent, his promiscuous ways a secret to none, naturally friendly and touchy towards all, hardly one to miss out on fun. 

Emrys withers at the thought, yesterday's annoyance steadily seeping into the new day. “Have you taken him to bed?” he grits, the very words bile in his mouth. 

Gwaine grins, cheeky and bright, leaning forward tauntingly, “Would you admit you’re jealous if I say I have?”

He pries himself completely from muscular arms, narrowed eyes beaming gold, “Answer me Gwaine.”

“You’re asking silly questions.”

“Am I?" he grits, "I’ve bear witness to your ways before. ” 

Gwaine leads forward once more, hot breath mingling with his own, “You mean the same ways I used to capture your attention?”

“Do not play with me. If you dare lay with another, I swear I’ll-”

“Punish me?"

_Why oh why did he deal with such a man?_

He hardly shares in the humor, unsuccessfully pushing up and away as Gwaine captures him in his arms, pulling them both down in an attempt to kiss his pursed lips, “Don't pout like that, you know I’m messing with you Em. I’ve maimed men for looking at you strange, do you think I’d let another touch what’s yours? And I am yours, after all, you _know that."_

 **His.** Yes, of course. This was his...all of it. The kingdoms he’d conquered, the remaining nobles that kneeled amongst the cold stone floor and served him, the castle, _Gwaine._ Somedays Emrys couldn't help the irrational fear that it'd all be taken away from him. That one day one stronger than him would succeed. _But it was impossible,_ he wouldn’t let anyone take what was his, not after he'd put his all into it. He'd accept not even one loss, especially that of his knight. _Koris would be slaughtered if he continued in his blundering advances. Challenges were to be eliminated, in any sense...in any way._

“Then don’t tease me and don’t _you dare_ let him touch you.”

“Too late for that, he’s a handsy one, that sorcerer.”

“Do you want to see that bastard dead?” He snaps, fist-clenching at Gwaine’s laughter.

“Not just yet, he’s got lots more to teach -- Oh, come on, I’ll behave now, I promise.” Gwaine hauls them upright, leaning against the bedpost and pulling the sulking king into his lap.

“Look, I brought you this week's newest flowers, you can't possibly stay mad at me,” Brown eyes flash golden, a sight Emrys had yet to get used to, the bouquet making its way towards them, all too slowly and with far too much effort from the knight, bringing upon a small smile to his annoyed expression.

“This is your apology I assume?”

“Now what would I have to apologize for, darling? These are for celebration.”

Emrys sighs at the man's antics, snatching the floating flowers with a raised brow, “Celebration?” 

“Surely you haven’t forgotten what today is?”

Racking his brain, he shakes his head, opting to smell the bouquet instead, “It seems it was nothing worth remembering."

“You’re quite incorrect. A year ago today the most beautiful king to live was crowned."

“Flattery gets you nowhere and that's hardly anything worth celebration.”

“Well that’s a lie,” Gwaine frowns, “Flattery gets me into your bed every night.”

“Believe me," Emrys glowers, "It’s not your mouth that grants you entrance to my chambers.”

“Not only am I wounded, but I also intend on proving you wrong, _but_ before I do so, what the hell are you talking about? This is most definitely worth celebrating. You’ve done more in a year than any leader has in their lifetime...and -- well..." he lingers suspiciously, a grin spreading mischievously across his face. 

_Oh great._

" _And what_ Gwaine?"

"The cooks are already preparing a feast Em, do you have the heart to tell them to stop?"

“There's a feast?" He groans, agitation growing greater, "Gwaine, I will not allow such a ridiculous thing, Albion hasn't been united yet."

“The unification of Albion has nothing to do with this day. You have already united four of the five kingdoms, Acadia will be yours when the weather is cleared. Today is in celebration of _you._ ”

“But-"

“Em,” Gwaine's voice softens, as it always does when he knows his king is stressed, “It’s just one day, you deserve it.”

He grunts disapprovingly, turning from the sweet gaze focused on him. 

“You, my love, are grumpy this morning. _Though that might partially be my fault,_ let’s get rid of that mood of yours, eh? I’ve brought you breakfast, all your favorites of course, as I am the most handsome and thoughtful lover in all of Camelot." 

Emrys may think it true but he refuses to agree, dedicated to his role of thoroughly sulking, “I’m not hungry," he mutters petulantly.

The rumble of his stomach is nearly instant, body far too traitorous for his liking, Gwaine’s booming laughter shakes them both, “You could have fooled me, my lord.” 

“Quiet, you insubordinate brat.” 

Which of course, only gains him another fit of laughter, “Come now, let’s hurry and eat, we’ve got places to be!”

Emrys turns to the window, eyes narrowing at the obvious storm that still loomed outside, “Where could we possibly have to be at this time?”

“I have a surprise for you, I was going to wait until later but I think it'll make your day much brighter.” Warm calloused hands cup his cheeks, a gentle kiss pressed onto his forehead.

"If it doesn't, you're likely to see what I meant about not letting you into my chambers."

It's always a battle of sorts with the other man, who grins excitedly, challenge duly accepted. "Oh, trust me, I'm getting into your bed tonight. In fact, you won't want to let me go."

Emrys sighs, shaking his head as he's pulled towards breakfast, "As you say Sir Gwaine, as you say."

* * *

“Fuck the gods.”

“Do you think cursing the gods at such a time is a good idea? They already seem quite cross, bastards won't give us the sun back.”

“I'm freezing my arse off, these cloaks are useless."

“It’s that frame of yours, love.”

“I’m a perfectly healthy young man, mind you.”

“I never said you weren’t, _but_ you’re light as a feather, it'd be strange if you weren't cold."

Emrys grunts moodily, muttering a spell that warms his clothing, a welcome relief from the blueish tint he's sure his fingers must be...he's not certain though, as satin covers his eyes. The king blindly led through a maze of twists and turns.“Why am I wearing a blindfold again?”

“Because as I said a million times before, it’s a surprise,” His knight sighs, steering him left once more.

“So what are we-”

“Sweetheart, do you know what a surprise is?”

“I don’t like surprises,” he grits crossly. 

“Yes, well you’ll like this one.”

“Doubt it.”

Gwaine grumbles his typical grievances, leading him cautiously down a set of stairs, the temperature in the foreign room dropping drastically from the castle’s halls. 

“Alright then,” Gwaine chirps excitedly, an encouraging squeeze to his shoulder. “You can take em' off now!"

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust and when they do--he’s left frozen, not from the biting cold but rather from shock. Emotions he hasn’t felt in ages bubbling, the sight before him one he'd seen in both dreams and nightmares.

It's when he regains consciousness that he finally turns to his knight, the beating of his heart dangerously loud, “How-”

“Magic for my magical king,” Gwaine finishes, a proud smile blooming, “Happy one year darling.”

Emrys can't possibly respond, returning his gaze to the figure chained amongst the red-stained floors of the dungeons. 

“M-Merlin-” The flinch that follows is unavoidable, _no one called him by that name anymore._

“Lord Emrys.” Gwaine corrects, disgust audible as he stares down at the prisoner. 

“I didn’t even know he was alive,” Emrys whispers awed, eyes scanning over the remnants of a man. 

“Who knows what hole Morgana had stored him, but when I found out I knew you’d enjoy this.”

 _Enjoy....is that what he would describe this feeling as? Enjoyment?_ The king leans down, eye to eye with a biting blue, concealing his surprise at the blinding life remaining within them.

“M-Merlin-” The man croaks dryly, voice unused and harsh, “I don’t know what’s happened, what she’s done to you. But this, this isn’t you -- you're loyal and-"

Emrys doesn’t stop his knight’s foot from slamming into the outstretched hand with a sickening crunch, watching the complexion before him pale further, lips bitten at an attempt to muffle a curse of agony.

“The king is loyal to no one-” Gwaine spits, "-and you will only speak when spoken to."

An uncomfortable feeling arises, a sudden urge to be alone moving through him.

“Leave us," Emrys calls to the others. Gwaine’s footsteps make towards the exit immediately, but the guards believe themself to be exempt from the demand, standing still. The king is grateful that he does not have to speak again, unsure certainty would be heard in his words.

His head knight's voice is almost as dark as his own, dangerous and low as he addresses them, "Do not make Lord Emrys repeat himself, he is to be left alone **_now._** "

The footsteps are instantaneous and he remains still, waiting for the loud slam of heavy doors before he returns his gaze to the bloodied prisoner. “Arthur," he whispers, not confident to speak any louder. 

The blonde tremors at his name, injured hand cradled carefully to his chest. Emrys has a sudden urge to heal it, to ensure all his wounds disappear, but he manages to stay still, gripping his hands together to avoid reckless actions.

“M-Merlin.” Despite the cracks and desperation in his voice, the scars and blood drenching his hair. Arthur glows golden, he glows with the same air Emrys had never been able to comprehend and he can't decide if he's angry or enamored by the view.

“I-it’s-- Camelot’s different now,” he finds himself speaking, it's nonsense mostly and he hardly harbors the confidence he usually exudes as king.

 _But he's uncertain in a way he hasn't been in ages, what else could he say?_ Despite the thousands of dreams he had about destroying the man before him, he doesn’t feel the urge to hurt...he wants to-to- _He doesn’t know._

_Why doesn’t he feel the same anger and murderous intent that he had only months ago?_

He'd assumed Arthur died ages ago, far too busy rebuilding the kingdom to focus on the details of it all. It wasn't until months later that he allowed himself to properly consider the idea and his emotions alongside it. _Was he hurt that Arthur died? Had he wanted to do it himself? Could they have ruled together?_

Emrys could never answer such questions, lost between the battles of his heart, darkness consuming a light that refused to be entirely distinguished.

Now seeing the man after so long, the confusion burned brighter, a dangerous uncertainty that he had wished to never feel again.

“Morgana has cursed you, Merlin _I know it_.”

“No,” He shakes his head, attempting to focus on the jumbled meaning of words, “You’re wrong. Camelot is beautiful. Its people are happy and healthy, they aren’t treated as if they were less. No one cares who you love, or about class and titles. Magic is... _Arthur,_ it’s good.”

_What if Arthur believed him? What if...what if Arthur could see the beauty of what he’s done?_ _Would he praise him? Admit to his past wrongs?_

“That's not right," Arthur croaks, exasperation and anger coating his words, "That's not a kingdom, there needs to be balance. Servants and peasants and nobles, that’s how it’s always been. I don’t know what she’s fed you but -- please...let me help you. We’ll find a cure, we can make sure you’re alright, get rid of Morgana, return Camelot to its old ways.”

 _No, no, no-_ “The old ways? Arthur, Camelot doesn’t need to return to anything.”

The blonde shakes his head, gripping roughly at his blood-coated hair, “You don’t know what you’re saying. This isn’t you _, I know you."_

Emrys bites at his lips, a nervous habit he thought he'd broken ages ago. “This _is_ me...Arthur this has always been me.”

“No, if this was truly you all along, I’d know. I’d have to know because I love you, because I paid attention and we knew each other better than anyone else. You would never betray me of your own free will. Listen, Merlin I-I love you...I just want to help you.”

He sounds so desperate so honest. But why couldn’t he just...understand? Understand that things were how they had always been meant to be. Just be proud for once...just this once. Accept that Emrys wasn't an idiot...but smart and successful.

“I-I don’t need help. If you understand how amazing Camelot is--how happy people are-”

“It’s not real!" Arthur seethes, his body's shaking growing more prominent, " It’s magic and hallucinations and bullshit! Merlin this isn’t real!”

“It is!" His hand reaches out, desperate to touch sense into the other, "Magic is good it’s-”

“You don’t know what you’re fucking saying! You're delusional!"

Emrys retracts his hand in an instant, burnt and battered without having even been touched. 

_What was he thinking attempting to talk to him? As if suddenly Arthur's ignorance and entitlement would be gone._

The man had been tortured, dethroned and he still believed he was the rightful ruler of Camelot, that he could control and monopolize the world's most powerful sorcerer like he was still a servant, a pathetic boy desperate for love. 

Would the man before him truly spout any nonsense to get his way?

 _Of course, he knew that._ Emrys had known that the moment he stepped into Camelot as a sixteen-year-old boy. 

_The man before him was a cheat...a lie, how had he almost let himself be led astray again?_

“You don’t love me, Arthur...you never _fucking_ have.”

The blonde startles, eyes widening in confusion, “Of course I do, Wh-what are you talking about?”

“You hate magic, I am magic.”

“That’s--we can _fix you_.”

His powers bubble, a warning that an eruption is near. Emrys breathes a deep breath voice cold as he speaks, “Fix me? You want to **_fix me?!_ **"

"I-of course. I meant it, I swear I do love-"

_As if it was an argument! As if love was an excuse!_

“No!” Emrys snarls, standing to hover over the pathetic prisoner. “ I _loved you_. At sixteen I fell in love with you, the older prince, charming and brave. You called me names, sent me to the stocks for your pleasure, overworked and underpaid me, took advantage of everything I did. Is that what love is to you?"

His eyes are glowing, the heat within them bordering between pain and comfort. 

“Please-" Arthur whispers, a pitiful and sad thing. 

"I loved you so much, I’ve come to hate you. That is the emotion within me that I just couldn't understand when I saw you. You forced these feelings into me. Not magic or Morgana, _you_ did this to me. _You_ drove me to this point. I gave up everything, I lost the people I loved, I suffered, and you _never cared_! Yet, you sit here and you tell me that you love me!”

His hands tremble, magic desperate to obliterate. _Just one flash and blood would paint artwork across the entire room._

“Merlin-" Arthur tries, "I know that I did horrible things to you, I-I’m so sorry. When we leave this place I’ll spend the rest of my life repenting, making it up for you, whatever it is you need.”

Emrys sees then the dreams of a future he held as a boy. Lips pressed against one another, taking care of a farm, brunette, and blonde, day and night. 

Dreams that had been crushed long ago.

“You think you’re leaving this place? That I need you? You don't ever change do you Arthur?"

The blonde appears frantic, emotions a mess as he shakes his head, "Gauis can help...where is he? Let's find him, okay? We can-"

“Dead.” Emrys has no intention of sparing feelings. 

The blonde blanches, eyes widening in horror as he pulls against the chains dressing his ankles, “Wh-what?”

“Dead. Killed. Gauis is gone.”

“What are you -- did you -- kill him?”

“Of course not,” Arthur lets out a soft shaky breath, a pitiful sign of relief. “I sent Morgana to do it. He was foolishly loyal to you until the very end. Just like Leon and Percival, your nobles, they’re all dead-”

The horror on the handsome face grows, a dark pleasure coiling within the king as he continues to speak, searching for what he knows will hurt the man before him the most, "What? -- no-no- that's not possible."

“Morgana’s married now, she and Gwen make a lovely couple, the wedding was beautiful. Your men who weren’t killed were made servants, perfect pets, chained and obedient. What else is there?"

He turns around in mock question, dark smile growing as he speaks, "Ah, and of course, Gwaine and I are lovers. I’ll ask him to marry me soon, make him the king consort. He’s loyal, smart, I reckon I fancy him more than I ought to. But love? I don't think I'd call it love. At least not the way I loved you. I will never do that again, never be so foolish as to sacrifice anything for anyone. You've ruined that for me. You’ve made it so that if I need to I could destroy whoever I please without a single thought. So tell me, are you proud of yourself Arthur...are you happy with your creation?"

Arthur’s tears flow freely, leaving streaks through the dirt and blood caking his face. His hands are pressed tight against his ears, shaking his head in denial. 

“Merlin-” And it's sobbed so desperately and heartfelt, “Please, please-I-”

“Merlin-” Emrys grits, prying both hands from Arthur’s ears to whisper, “-was a weak man and he died the day you threw him against a wall and cast him aside. I am Lord Emrys, I am the king of Camelot and I have united four of the five Albion kingdoms. You, Arthur Pendragon are nothing. You are no one important, and you will die in this dungeon. I can’t let you live, you're proof of my past weakness, do you understand?"

He’s met with even prettier sobs, coughs of blood splattering the floor ruefully. 

So many things left unsaid, so many questions. And yet, none of them are worth it. 

He gives the man one more glance, memories of laughter and anger, of love, and betrayal. They all play throughout his mind and he copied the image of the face before him into his mind. Emrys would never forget...ever. “Goodbye Arthur, no one will ever suffer loving you again.” 

“Gwaine!" He calls, straightening out his cape and grinning as his knight bounds in.

“Looks like you had fun? Though I didn’t expect him to be breathing.”

“I’ve tired of him, and why risk dirtying my nicest cloak?”

“Then shall we return another day?”

Emrys smiles gratefully, “I've drained the fun out of him. I don't believe he has any more use to me."

Gwaine laughs, wrapping him in a tight embrace, “I'll be seeing you tonight then, won't I?"

The king pretends to ponder, eventually giving in with an exaggerated sigh, "You truly have outdone yourself, I can't dare deny you of your prize. What kind of man would that make me?"

"I told you!" The other sings, and they're both too enraptured with one another to mind the echoing sobs.

Emrys pulls him down into another kiss, speaking against his lips, “Well then, would you wish to accept your prize early, my knight?"

"Absolutely, my king."

“Guards-” Emrys calls, the two sorcerers straightening, obediently “Our prisoner here is a Pendragon! I’m sure he’s executed a few of your friends. Do as you please, but he dies by the end of the day."

The guards give curt nods, smiles peaking into their serious expressions.

“I’m sorry," Arthur croaks, and Emrys hears the resignation of his fate within the words, "I treated you terribly, I didn't know who to handle how much I loved you...how much I needed you. I had only wanted to protect you, _Merlin.”_

It's the last time he'd be addressed by that retched name and he bothers not to face the culprit of his disgust. The pain in each word is enough for him...he had finally found his peace. 

“That is where you went wrong Arthur. I never needed you to protect me."

Emrys entwines his hand with his knight's, urging him away, entirely uninterested in the prisoner's potential response. “I believe we have plans."

"That, my love, we do."

They’re barely up the stairs when the tortured screams begin, the dungeons glowing brightly as the guards release their magic. Emrys laughs gleefully when Gwaine hoists him up and through the halls, passing old servants turned nobility who laugh and wave at them. Lady Lydia shouts her congratulations as they burst down the last hall a bumbling mess, and Emrys is the most content he's been in his entire life.

The weather, he sees now, doesn't matter. Acadia would become his when the time was welcomed, but he'd already won the prize of a million lifetimes. 

His people loved him, they’d _die for him_ , because he had given them what they’d always wanted; **revenge that only hurt men could crave,** the chance to see those who had tortured them destroyed. Emrys had gained a thousand loyalties for the sacrifice of the one man he loved and it was a sacrifice he’d make over and over again...because _who needed boundless love in a world of wonders?_

Blood, power, and the loyalty were far more valuable.

_So really...he didn’t think he was much of a mad man at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <33
> 
> Actually had fun writing this! Anywho, comments & constructive criticism are always appreciated! Also if you see spelling or obvious grammatical errors that helps too, because practice tehe!
> 
> I like the idea of writing darker themes again, NOT non-con. But we'll see where the winds take me, eh?
> 
> NEXT UP: Prequel to king's king. bout damn time I finish that ish GASHH.
> 
> EDIT: omg just had a 3:00 am moment. Dark Morgana/Merlin fic coming, but like also I want write Mercelot because they're my fav. But also I have ten WIPS so I should probably stfu. anywho bye <33
> 
> EDITEDIT!!!! My dumbass forgot the divider between the scene switch so I'm terribly sorry if you read this and were confused before I fixed it.


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